Raw
by ChunkyLvr
Summary: DHr: Harry and Herm are undisputedly Hogwart's perfect couple. Draco and Chloe are the quientessential rebellious couple. Herm is determined to find a raw, passionate sort of love; Draco seems like the perfect contender. If only we could make 'em see...
1. Hermione: One Percent Brain Activity

_Title_ – Raw

_By_ – Isabel (ChunkyLvr)

_Rating_ – R

_Summary_ – Harry and Herm are the perfect couple. Like waaay perfect. Draco and Chloe are the quintessential rebellious couple – always being scolded for snogging at breakfast. Herm's determined to step outside the box for once; Draco's not the most faithful life partner. Forget their other halves – these guys are drawn to each other!! And with one measly common room between them, what could possibly keep them apart?! D/Hr

_Disclaimer_ – I honestly don't own Harry Potter. Uh-huh.

_Chapter 1_ – 1 Brain Activity

"Good morning, gorgeous," Harry Potter greeted his girlfriend Hermione Granger with a sloppy kiss on the cheek and a quick, affectionate squeeze of her arm. She raised an eyebrow when he gave her a stupid grin and patted the seat beside him. "What are you waiting for? C'mon, take a seat!"

Quickly, Hermione scanned the Gryffindor table for an empty seat. With a wave of immediate relief, she spotted one beside Dennis Creevey, Colin's younger brother, and without a word to Harry, strode to the other of the table, sat down and helped herself to some toast.

"Um," Harry said intelligently, "Herm, what are you doing?"

To Hermione's annoyance, she found that a lot of eyes were on her. How could they think it scandalous not to sit next to your boyfriend? Couldn't they tell she didn't need to be smothered?

"I'm sitting next to Dennis, Harry, all right?" she said, throwing a sharp glance in Ginny Weasley's direction, who seemed to find this all very amusing.

Well, Hermione didn't find it amusing. Not in the least. God, Harry could be such a prat when he wanted to be.

"But you always sit next to me, Herm," said Harry, in tones resembling a three-year-old who was begging his mum for sweets. He patted the seat next to him once more. "C'mon, don't play games, just sit."

"I _am _sitting," replied Hermione. "See? This is what it looks like, in case you were wondering."

Harry leaned across the breakfast table and with a wave of his hand motioned for Hermione to do the same. With a sigh, she leaned forward in her seat and found the frayed ends of her shirt land in the butter dish.

"Hermione," Harry began, "don't make a scene. Just sit next to me."

"Why," Hermione hissed, "must I sit next to you _every single day_? If I don't want to, I do not have to."

Harry gave her a mean look. "Why are you being so difficult?"

"Difficult?" Hermione huffed. "Harry. What if I told you I needed some space?"

Harry sat back straight in his chair so fast it caused the plates and the glasses resting comfortably on the table to rattle violently. Hermione fell back into her chair and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, who was refusing to even look in her direction.

"Harry," Hermione began.

"I thought you needed some space, Hermione," said Harry in acidic tones. Murmuring suddenly erupted all around the table.

Hermione flinched involuntarily. She had never heard Harry speak to her that way before. He looked furious. Immediately, Hermione felt guilty. She honestly hadn't intended to hurt his feelings; she just wanted him to get off her case.

"Harry," said Hermione quietly, "I'm sorry, I—"

"Let's not make a scene, shall we, Hermione?" Harry continued in that same acid tone. "How about we talk about this later?"

"Fine," Hermione said, blinking back tears. Why did he have to be this damned insensitive? Then again, if he had said the same thing to her, she couldn't say honestly she would let it slide.

Because it would hurt.

Like goddamned hell.

God, she was a bitch.

"Fine," she said again, scrambling for her things she'd stuffed under the table. "I'll, er, see you later."

The murmuring ceased at once as everyone at Gryffindor table watched Hermione march out of the Great Hall. Everyone except Harry of course, who kept his head bowed with a solemn expression on his handsome face.

Hermione sniffled, dragging her book bag on the dusty, ancient floorboards, entirely aware that almost all eyes were on her. She paused for a millisecond when she reached the Slytherin table and watched Draco Malfoy and his beautiful ebony-haired girlfriend, Chloe Madison snogging each other senseless as their breakfasts lay uneaten before them.

Chloe was a Ravenclaw sixth-year who had, in Hermione's opinion, the complete package. She was gorgeous, for starters. She had shiny ebony hair that only just reached past her shoulders, full, pouting red lips and flawless porcelain skin. She was way reminiscent of Snow White in her own way, although Hermione doubted Snow White would let her handsome prince grab her arse the way Draco was doing now.

Speaking of Draco, he was another reason Hermione secretly envied Chloe. He just seemed so passionate about her. Like he would die for her or something. Hermione know Harry cared about her, maybe even loved her even, but she knew he didn't look at her the way Draco looked at Chloe. It wasn't just pure unadulterated, animal lust (although Hermione that played an important part in it, too) it was, like, major, almost verging on stalkeresque, love.

Hermione craved that sort of passion. She craved that sort of love. She craved a boyfriend who didn't care if she sat next to Dennis Creevey.

But that meant giving up on Harry and she wasn't certain she was ready to do that. She'd been with him for too long to take that risk. Hermione wasn't sure if she was in love with Harry, but she sure as hell cared about him – even though he could be a total prat sometimes. She wasn't prepared to just stomp on his heart like that.

Oh well. It'd have to happen eventually. God, it wasn't as if she was going to be Mrs Harry Potter.

As she stood there, lost in thought, she noticed Draco and Chloe break away as Chloe worked her mouth down the nape of his neck. Hermione felt immediately dumbstruck when she found Draco's brilliant grey eyes boring into her own. In fact, she could almost swear it; he was looking at her the same way she longed to be looked at. With undisputed passion.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, dimly aware her breath was ragged from that brief moment. The way he had looked at her! Perhaps he had been staring at someone behind her. She turned and ignored the wave of relief she felt when she saw she was the only one in staring distance. With a sigh, she saw Chloe's lips find Draco's once more, and was entirely unaware that his eyes followed her until she was out of sight and safe in the Entrance Hall.

Hermione leaned against the wall in the Entrance Hall and closed her eyes. Luckily, concerning her current situation, it was only early Saturday morning and she could choose to spend the entire day in her dormitory or common room, researching the extra credit for McGonagall's or simply staying out of Harry's wary gaze until she was ready and willing to face him.

With a slight and silent nod, Hermione agreed with her thoughts and made her way up the staircase on her right leading towards the Head Boy and Girl headquarters. She climbed one staircase, two, cut to the left, climbed another two staircases and was met with the familiar seemingly never-ending hallway. She counted fifteen paces, cut a sharp right, dug her wand out of her robes and tapped the blank wall three times.

"Granger, Hermione, 2004."

A slight crack appeared in the wall on both sides, which slithered like a snake up and down the wall, until it was completely disembodied from itself and it moved backwards by some very strong, unseen force.

Hermione stepped through the gap and heard the wall slide backwards and click back into place. She click-clacked through the brightly lit corridor and was met of a portrait of the Head Girl before her, Annabelle Stew. Annabelle smiled brightly down at her and said in a cheery voice, "Password, Herm?"

"Calypso," Hermione yawned and without another word to the excessively cheery Annabelle she ducked through the portrait hall and into her absolutely gorgeous bedroom. Her four-poster looked overpoweringly inviting, but Hermione resisted temptation and grabbed an armful of textbooks from her dresser, steered into the common room and dropped them onto the soft carpeted floor.

She sat down on the plushy red velvet sofa and opened her Transfiguration textbook. She flipped through and, discovering the chapter she needed, began to read.

She became so immersed in her book that she hadn't noticed the Head Boy greet his own portrait, nor enter the common room via his own bedroom. And she definitely hadn't noticed that he was standing right in front of her.

"Morning Granger," he greeted tiredly.

Hermione jumped. The book that had been resting on her lap went flying into the air and Draco leaned forward to catch it, so the sudden weight of it wouldn't crush the coffee table which had been situated right underneath it. "Er, thanks," she murmured.

"Good book?" he inquired with an eyebrow raised and he studied the book cover in his hands.

Hermione shrugged. "Uhh, it's all right."

"Hmm." Draco rested the book softly on the coffee table, and, having made his decision about it, added, "Homework or … pleasure?"

"Homework," replied Hermione, a slight smile playing on her lips. "But it's not _that _bad."

"Right," Draco nodded. "When should I read this so-called homework?"

"Now would be good," said Hermione. "And then you can get to work on the essay …"

Draco swallowed hard. "You're joking?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes."

"You play some freaky mind games, Granger," he said, smiling despite himself.

Hermione grabbed the book off of the coffee table. She didn't know what to say to that statement and remained quiet trying to immerse herself once more in the chapter. But the more she tried, the more she was aware that Draco was so near and that perhaps he had been trying to catch her eye at breakfast …

He sat down on the sofa next to her.

"So, d'you want to tell me what happened?"

Hermione gave up on the book and slammed it shut. "A time and a date would be good."

"At breakfast," he said, a matter-of-factly. "With you and Mr Perfect."

Hermione tensed immediately. How dare him! How could he make such a massive assumption without knowing the whole story? She almost laughed as the aftershock was wearing thin. Did he really see Harry as Mr Perfect? Well, that was _funny_.

But still, it hurt to think everyone was shielded from what she really felt. They probably did think she was going to be Mrs Harry Potter.

"And how did you know what happened at breakfast?" Hermione snapped. "You and Chloe seemed a little busy."

Draco laughed outright at that. Hermione tensed again. She honestly didn't see what was so damned funny.

"I don't know if you've actually experienced snogging, Granger," he began with a laugh in his voice, "but you see, while your mouth is occupied your ears can go on working."

Hermione gave him a puzzled look.

"You were making quite a racket, you see," Draco explained, "and I'm sorry to say I heard everything."

Hermione glowered at him. "You were eavesdropping."

Draco laughed again. Hermione wanted to slap him.

"It was a little hard not to," he said.

Hermione blushed. She hadn't really considered the volume of their voices during their fight. It was just her luck for her Potions master to know the ups-and-downs of her personal life.

"And anyway," Draco began, "how do you know how busy Chloe and I were? Were you staring?"

Um, yes. But let's not tell you.

"Oh, no, I wasn't staring," said Hermione. "I was eavesdropping. You see, it was a little hard to ignore the lip smacking from Gryffindor table."

Draco bowed his head and chuckled. "Touché, Granger, touché."

Hermione felt thoroughly pleased with herself. But now she wondered if everyone _had _heard her little tiff with Harry would it make things a little harder to patch up? Perhaps Harry would decide to end it all. To sever all ties. A clean break-up.

No, she reasoned with herself. Harry loved her too much. That she knew.

But jeez, at least he could show it once in a while. An undying need for your girlfriend to sit next to you at breakfast doesn't exactly scream ultimate proclamation of love.

Besides, she wouldn't mind a little bit of snogging at the breakfast table. Because, yes, she had experienced its wonders before.

"So, what happened?" Draco said after a few long minutes.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied in a hoarse voice. Because the truth was, she really, really didn't.

"Aw, come on," he said, "It's me, your old pal, Draco. The guy you hated for the past six years."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I don't still hate you?"

Draco looked genuinely shocked. "I-I thought we came to some sort of agreement."

Hermione hadn't the foggiest idea what he was on about. "Agreement?"

"Yeah." Draco seemed quite eager to explain. "On the first day when McGonagall told us we were Head Boy and Girl, all you said was 'Fine'."

Hermione stared. "That's it?"

"Hmm, an agreement."

Hermione laughed. "_Malfoy_, I said 'Fine', because McGonagall was there and I wasn't about to chuck a tantrum just because I had to share a common room with you all year round." She paused. Draco seemed to be processing this. "Got that?"

"If we didn't come to an agreement—"

"We didn't—"

"You're sure we're not friends …"

"Er, yeah."

"So, why are we having a civilised conversation now?"

Hermione paused. Damn. He had her there.

"I don't know …"

"You know," Draco began, "I only really didn't like you because of your …" He rounded his hands just outside of his head to give the impression of a massive afro. Hermione stared. 'Hair,' he mouthed.

"You didn't like me because of my _hair_?" Hermione repeated, nervously fingering her straightened locks.

"Yeah, and that whole Mudblood thing," he paused, reflecting this. "But, I'm totally over that now."

"Huh …"

"And you have ponces for friends."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Is that it?"

Draco thought for a second.

"Yes."

"So, you only didn't like me because of my hair, my blood and my friends?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded, "Uh-huh."

"Well, all right."

Draco nodded again. "Why didn't you like me?"

Oh, let thee count the ways!

"Because … you're you."

"Hmm, okay."

Draco thought for a bit, and then said, "Was that an agreement?"

Hermione laughed. "You know what? I'll let you know …"

END …

Until Chapter Two …

Hey guys and gals! Thanks so much for reading! I've kinda been planning a story like this for a while so it's awesome to have out there now. And it'd be even better if you … I don't know … reviewed!! Oh, and I don't hate Harry. _You_ may if you wish, but I'm kinda favouring Draco more at the moment. Sue me. And after you've done that – review!! Gimme … eight … and I'll give you number two!! I'll tell ya it'll appear like magic!!

Love you all to bits!!

Isabel


	2. Harry: There He Goes!

_Title_ – Raw

_By_ – Isabel (ChunkyLvr)

_Rating_ – R

_Summary_ – Harry and Herm are the perfect couple. Like waaay perfect. Draco and Chloe are the quintessential rebellious couple – always being scolded for snogging at breakfast. Herm's determined to step outside the box for once; Draco's not the most faithful life partner. Forget their other halves – these guys are drawn to each other!! And with one measly common room between them, what could possibly keep them apart?! D/Hr

_Disclaimer_ – I honestly don't own Harry Potter. Uh-huh.

_Chapter Two_ – Harry: There He Goes

"Hey Harry," Ron Weasley said with a grin, patting his long-time friend and confidante on the back. "How you going?"

"Mmm," Harry mused, "pretty shit."

The two boys were standing awkwardly in the centre of the Gryffindor common room and Ron wordlessly managed to convey his desire to take a seat away from the chaos. Harry nodded towards the armchairs at the back of the room and the two boys strode towards them. They sat and Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look.

"Hey man, it's not all bad," he began. "You and Hermione will work it out."

"Yeah?" said Harry, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe we shouldn't this time …"

Ron stared. "I thought you loved her."

"I do," Harry said, "but she doesn't love me. That I know."

Ron crinkled his forehead. "But _how _do you know? She does love you, Harry; she just has a weird way of showing it."

"Look, it's not about the whole seat thing," Harry explained, "and I admit, I was being a little scary boyfriend about it all but … I can just tell. Like a part of her is looking for a way out or something."

Ron frowned and patted Harry's shoulder. "She isn't, trust me. She's just going through a stage."

Harry shrugged. "Think what you like but I know it won't last. It might end tomorrow; it might end in a few years. But she's not happy, I can tell."

"Well, buy her flowers, Harry! Chocolate! Jewellery—girls like pretty things," Ron advised, nodding.

"Ron, you don't get it! I can't buy her love, we both know that. The truth is, she doesn't love me and she never has … no more than a good friend anyway."

Harry sighed and looked away. It was somewhat of a relief to get his feelings all out in the open, but at the same time very upsetting, considering how the impact of his words were hitting him now. It was frustrating, also, because no one seemed to get it! Everyone saw Hermione and Harry as the ones to last the distance. God, they probably saw them as this generation's Lilly and James! But Harry knew different and no matter how much everyone contradicted his feelings he was certain he had the right idea. Hermione was not in love with him. But she cared about him, about their friendship, Harry knew. Otherwise, it'd all be over by now.

"But Harry," Ron began, "you and Hermione are the _perfect couple_. You can't break up."

"Oh, sorry, Ron, I didn't realise I needed your permission," said Harry sarcastically, "perhaps I could get you a form and you could sign along the dotted line."

Ron shot him a nasty and aggravated look, but he continued, "If you break up, Harry, it won't be the same. You know, with the three of us, I mean. We probably won't be able to hang out together anymore. C'mon, it'll ruin everything."

"Glad to see you're being so selfish, Ron, for a moment there I thought you were actually going to be helpful," Harry retorted. He was positive know no one was _going _to actually be helpful in the least.

"Don't be an arse, Harry," said Ron quietly. "I was just … I'm sorry."

Harry immediately regretted his earlier statement. God, he was talking to Ron here! Nothing he ever wanted to say really came out the way he intended. Ron would never intentionally rile Harry's feathers or be a bit of dunce.

"Yeah, well, I'm just in a bad mood that's all," Harry said and gave his best friend a small smile.

Bad mood was an understatement. He was ever so slowly losing the love of his life and his best friend in the whole wide was entirely unaware of his pain. He wanted to hate Hermione for doing this to him, but he couldn't. Everytime she smiled or looked at him he felt himself loving her more and more. And she had no idea.

"Mmm," was all Ron said. He looked thoughtful.

"Anyway, Ron, when was the last time the three of us hung out together as friends?" Harry asked. "You and Herm have got your duties as Hogwarts leaders and I'm just … here, trying to figure out the massive mess that I've gotten myself into."

"You could hang out with Neville," said Ron with a shrug, "he never has anything to do."

"Thanks for the idea, Ron, but I rather like being a loner," Harry replied, "it gives me time to piece things together."

"Maybe you should talk to her," said Ron, considering Harry's words.

"Who?" Harry asked, even though he was entirely aware who Ron was talking about.

"Hermione, you prat," Ron said with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh," said Harry.

"Is that all you have to say?" Ron said, looking immensely annoyed. "Oh? Well, that's bloody intelligent, Potter."

Harry laughed. He needed that. He needed laughter—it made him forget sometimes. You know, how screwed up his life actually was. He was laughing at the fact that Ron had called him 'Potter'. Ron only tended to do that when he was rather annoyed at Harry and was trying to get his point across. Although, it always sounded forced and meaningless—nothing like the taunts Malfoy had point him through in his earlier years. That was what made him laugh.

"Okay, okay, calm down, Weasley," said Harry, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. Ron looked scandalised. Harry laughed again. "All right, so I go and talk to Hermione, what the bloody hell do I say?"

"Umm." Ron tapped a long finger on the side of his face. "How about 'so, do you love me or not?'"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, that's ridiculous, Ron, of course she's going to say yes."

"Ah, yes, but she's a terrible liar," Ron contradicted. "Remember last year when you were planning my secret birthday party? Well, I could tell she was lying, see? She always looks away, links her fingers together and clenches and then when she says something, her nostrils flare like mad. That's why I had to feign surprise."

"Oh, really?" said Harry genuinely shocked. He hadn't paid much attention to the signs that indicated Hermione was lying. He and the rest of the Weasley family had spent weeks planning his sixteenth birthday party and it all went down the drain thanks to Hermione's abominable lying skills.

Oh, well. Who could really give two shits about a party that happened three months ago?

"Yes, yes, all very interesting, I know," said Ron, sounding clearly disinterested. "Now did you listen to what I said?"

"Er …"

What was it? She looks away, clenches her hands and her nostrils flare when she lies. Easy.

"Sure," Harry said finally.

"All right, then," said Ron, "perhaps you should go find her."

"N-now?" Harry coughed.

Ron shrugged. "Good a time as any."

"Um, okay, I'll go," said Harry slowly.

"Excellent," said Ron, grinning from ear to ear. "You should probably go now." And before Harry could stop him, Ron had lifted him from his seat and was steering him toward the portrait hole quite easily. Ron stopped him directly in front of it. "There you go."

"There I go?"

"Go on," said Ron with a massive push. Harry felt himself tumbling through the portrait hole. Damn him.

Harry picked himself up and dusted himself off. Ron was insufferable. How he could stand him, he had no idea!

Harry walked casually through the hallway, and thought about what he was about to do. Not very much of him wanted to do it, but a small part of him wanted to know exactly what Hermione was thinking. Of course, it'd be a total invasion—or would it? It wasn't as if he was about to poison her pumpkin juice with Veritaserum. He was simply going to ask her a few questions and if she did the things Ron was positive she would, then he was royally …

… fucked.

"Um, hi?"

Harry turned. He was greeted with the sight of gorgeous sixth year, Chloe Madison, was standing apprehensively behind him.

Harry gave her a wave. "Hi."

Chloe seemed immediately more at ease. Why had she seemed scared of him? Hermione hadn't been telling horror stories about him in the girls' loo had she?

No, Hermione had her own bathroom now and she couldn't possibly be sharing horror stories about him with his absolute arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy. That would be absolutely cruel and perfectly stupid.

"Do you have any idea where Draco might be?" Chloe asked, her blue eyes looking fearful.

Harry tensed at the mention of his name. "No," he grunted.

"Oh, right," Chloe mentally slapped herself. "You don't like Draco, do you?"

Harry clenched his fists. "No. We don't tend to run in the same circles."

"Wouldn't you think he'd be in his room or something?" Chloe persisted.

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suppose."

"Mmm," Chloe pursed her lips. "Well, thanks anyway."

Harry yawned involuntarily and almost slapped himself. Chloe cast him a hurt look. "Yeah, see ya."

Chloe didn't say anything. She turned and marched off down the hall. When she was out of sight, Harry did slap himself. Jeez, just because his life was falling apart gave him no excuse to be such an arse.

Harry decided he wouldn't see Hermione this afternoon. It would have to happen eventually, you know, them meeting and all. And when they did, he wouldn't say a word. He would go on living the lie he'd been living for so long.

And one day it'd all end. By that time, Harry would have been sure to move on, because if he didn't he expected the pain would hurt too much, too soon.

And then he'd have nothing left.

So, he probably should keep an eye out then.

Just a thought.

END …

Until Chapter Three …

Okay, big hugs and kisses to:

**Lazy,** **sugarnspice522** – glad to see you found Harry so funny as Mr Perfect, gawd, it's a bit of a stretch …, **estebee** – I loved writing the conversations at the end, **shadowdweller602 **– hmm, the civil thing? Now, that's a convo topic at the moment, **Mandy14, Magicall Me** – duly noted, babe! Now, my brain is kinda working overtime to think of something realistic to alter their opinions, any ideas?!, **CocoaFlavourPunk** – nah! I'm posting with your fantastic seven reviews! Now, lemme go check 4 grama mistakz …

Yeah, I know I said I'd post with eight reviews, but I'm obsessed with this story now!! Oh, and for anyone who was wondering the last chapter was 1**** Brain Activity. The percentage thing was cut out for some reason … er; I'm changing the summary a bit, so … yeah. Keep reviewing!! Oh, and if you've reviewed before this chapter was posted and it's not up there, sorry!! I'll put ya up next chappie!!

Luv you all!!

Isabel ;-)


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